


Always Ready (for a war again)

by EmitTime



Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M'Baku and T'Challa being freakin' weak for each other's kindness, M'Baku-centric, M/M, POV Third Person, Reconciliation, Soft M'Baku (Marvel), Sweet T'Challa (Marvel), they're both just tired and need each other to be chill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-15 00:14:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14779970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmitTime/pseuds/EmitTime
Summary: “You had a chance to become king. I would like to know why you did not take that chance."I did not want to kill you,M’Baku refrained from saying.(Post-Black Panther, Pre-Infinity War.)





	Always Ready (for a war again)

**Author's Note:**

> I saw the movie two days ago and couldn't get these two out of my head. Apologies for any inaccuracies regarding Wakandan lore -- feel free to educate me!

 

.x.x.x.

 

When M’Baku challenged T’Challa for the throne, he was fueled by a bitterness formed by years of suffering in the frigid mountain range while the rest of Wakanda comes first to their king, each just as weak-spirited and blind to true pain as the last.

 

When T’Challa spared his life, all but begging him to yield as they both writhed dangerously close to the edge of the falls, M’Baku was forced to entertain the notion that he might have been _wrong_ about this one.

 

.x.x.x.

 

T’Challa was fished out of the river in a sorry state, and M’Baku pushed his concern to the back of his mind, embracing disappointment, instead.

“I had just begun to hope,” he confessed as he sat alone with fallen panther’s snow-packed form, resisting the urge to trace the smooth curvature of the former king’s cheekbone. “That you would be different.”

 

.x.x.x.

 

He didn’t know what he would do with T’Challa, not yet, but he would not release him into unworthy hands. These mountains were M’Baku’s fortress, and he would not allow harm to come to anyone or anything within this range – unlike how T’Challa had failed the rest of their people.

Their downfall was _always_ vibranium.

 

.x.x.x.

 

He would admit to himself that the sight of the proud queen kneeling before him brought about a vindictive sort of gratification. Not long after, however, he remembered the loss of his own father, and saw before him not a smug woman of privilege, but a woman suffering one great loss on the heels of another.

 

The fact that the royal family would rather trust his leadership than allow an outsider to control their beloved Wakanda spoke volumes. For the first time in his life, he felt appreciated by the Panther Tribe.

 

Perhaps things could be different, after all. He would give T’Challa one more chance to fulfill that hope.

 

.x.x.x.

 

Despite deciding to pay his life debt to T’Challa, he could not resist the urge to see him squirm a bit, and felt a thrilling rush when the black panther did not immediately back down, instead asking him for military aid again, firm yet courteous.

 

Part of him wondered how much more he could cause the panther to squirm under different circumstances, how long T’Challa would continue his exhilarating defiance until the smaller king finally gave in to sweet submission, bowing beneath him in all of his lithe elegance and primal _power_.

 

He knew, in that instant, as he watched T’Challa walk away from him – tracking his determined stride and the subtle sway of his hips – that he would do everything in his power to keep his king around.

 

And T’Challa was truly the first king that M’Baku had considered to be _his_.

 

.x.x.x.

 

To M’Baku’s pleasure – but not quite his surprise, for by now, the black panther had proved his honor – T’Challa kept his promise to usher in a new age of peace and inclusiveness between the royal family and the Jabari. M’Baku still did not entirely trust the panther, nor did he approve of the decision to expose Wakanda to the corrupted outside world. Even so, he felt refreshed to be in the company of a king who at least _listened_ to his piece and remained willing to hold discussions.

 

Too many past kinds had failed to give the Jabari a voice, instead choosing to interpret their silence as a lack of opinion, or even a right to one.

 

.x.x.x.

 

“You had a chance to become king,” T’Challa reminded him one day, when they were alone during one of the black panther’s visits – part of T’Challa’s effort to connect with the Jibari, though he mostly kept close to M’Baku, about which the Mountain Tribe leader could not complain.

They were sitting close together on soft animal pelts in M’Baku’s private quarters, sharing tea in front of a fire. T’Challa was still becoming used to the Jibari way, but he could concede that calm hours spent without technology had their place in the day.

“You know that I am grateful for what you did that day, and since then.” T’Challa continued. He was all seriousness now, with somber, feline inquisitiveness in his warm brown eyes. “But I would like to know why you did not take that chance.”

M’Baku struggled not to lose himself in those eyes; the sincerity there was enough to quicken his pulse. _I did not want to kill you_ , he refrained from saying.

“When your family came to me and _asked_ me to become king for the sake of Wakanda, I realized that your reign could be different than those before you. It was the first time I felt that the Panther Tribe appreciated the strength of the Jibari, instead of only dreading it. I wanted to give you one last chance to prove that you would give my tribe the respect and consideration that we deserve.”

M’Baku’s expression hardened momentarily, for despite the fact that he still carried too much goodness in his heart to be like Killmonger, he still struggled with his own bitterness. “And if you did not prove yourself worthy, then I would have come for you again, and I would not have yielded.”

 

Interpreting that confession as a threat rather than a warning, T’Challa leaned away from his host. M’Baku was sorry to see him shift away, immediately feeling the lack of his warmth and close presence. He felt an even greater pang of emptiness when he observed how T’Challa’s expression grew aggrieved and almost frightened, before becoming entirely shuttered saw for his eyes, which swam with pained feeling.

 

For a tense span of moments, the king did not look at him or make a sound. When T’Challa did speak, his voice was strained, nearly trembling, but his earnestness was stronger than ever.

“There are still many wrongs committed by my ancestors that I must right. That I _will_ right.” The panther promised fervently, despite the tense hunch of his shoulders, as if the weight of all the vibranium in Wakanda rested heavily upon them. “And I know that, already in my time as king, my mistakes are many. But I will not give up, M’Baku.” When T’Challa looked up at him, expressive eyes glistening wetly, M’Baku had no choice but to believe him.

“I am grateful for your commitment to Wakanda, and I admire your devotion to the Jibari, whom you lead well.” T’Challa continued, straightening his posture in an attempt to collect himself. Despite the move, M’Baku still read vulnerability in the panther’s body language, still saw his king’s fragile heart in the way T’Challa folded his arms and angled his face away to blink away tears. “I hope that, in time, you will consider me worthy. And, if not—”

“Hush, my king.” M’Baku interrupted, his tone a fond, bemused rumble. The hint of mirth did not mask his own honesty, and was meant to soothe the panther’s distress rather than to mock his display of emotion. “You are doing well.”

Those simple words, combined with M’Baku reaching out to the weary king, beckoning him closer, sent T’Challa all but melting into his touch. He accepted the firm yet gentle guidance of M’Baku’s large hand against the nape of his neck, the warm, heavy weight providing reassurance.

 

“You _are_ worthy,” M’Baku declared as he coaxed the black panther close enough to bring their foreheads together in a universal gesture of chaste yet intimate comfort.

T’Challa relaxed when he realized that M’Baku did not plan to pull away soon, settling into their new closeness, bringing one hand up to cup M’Baku’s strong jaw almost reverently. He closed his eyes, leaning into M’Baku’s solid, grounding presence.

“You are the first king worthy to me,” the Mountain Tribe leader breathed against his ruler’s lips. “And our next enemy, we will come after together.”

“Yes,” T’Challa uttered, the assent carried on the edge of a quiet gasp. “I am in your debt,” he murmured, and M’Baku wondered if the king was fully aware of the way he was nuzzling into his face.

A chuckle sounded low and deep in the gorilla warrior’s chest. “You will have plenty of time to pay it off,” he vowed, in as much a promise of T’Challa’s long life as an acknowledgement of events transpired. “And to acquire new favors.” He added wryly, feeling satisfied when T’Challa laughed softly in response.

 

“May I start now?” The king asked, pulling back just enough to make eye contact, regarding M’Baku with imploring respect and a special kind of _passion_. M’Baku was struck anew with the bizarre, _pleased_ feeling that came with having a king that appreciated his opinion. Desire coursed through him, then.

“May I kiss you?” T’Challa asked sweetly, and although M’Baku was partially amused at the formality, some part of him found the smaller king ever more endearing.

In lieu of a spoken response, he captured T’Challa’s lips with his own, relishing the press to the black panther’s soft lips, the breathy sigh that followed that first gesture before T’Challa surged forward to take control over the kiss, sucking M’Baku’s lower lip between his teeth, swiping his tongue across the flesh before drawing it out slow.

T’Challa kissed like he did everything else, fervently with heart, yet willing to bend, willing to follow another’s pace, willing to _please_. In turn, M’Baku sought to find out what had him gasping or moaning the most, keeping a steady hand at the back of the panther’s head, his kisses intense yet kind. Ever the opportunist, after a light nip to T’Challa’s lower lip that resulted in a gasp, M’Baku thrust his tongue into his king’s mouth, beginning a lazy battle for dominance before they resumed more chaste kisses, exchanging pleasure and extending care toward one another.

 

There was comfort in this moment, as well as in the certainty that, whatever their next battle may be, they would fight on the same side in all the ways that mattered.


End file.
